Naughty Book Update for March 10, 2016: New rockstars, paranormals, stepbrothers and a new HOT biker release #ComingSoon [sexy excerpts and giveaways inside]

coollogo_com-285094881

new releases header

Snaredabout the book

BEAU has never known a good life, only the torment that lives inside his head every day. The only way to block out the darkness that shrouds him is through the rhythmic beat of his drums. Knowing what happens when he opens up to anyone, Beau buries his pain deep inside, keeping it all to himself.

APRIL has lived a life of wealth and privilege, full of love and support. Her only insight into what it’s like to have a rough life is through her work with foster children. When she meets Beau, it starts as a challenge to get through to him but quickly turns into much more than either of them bargained for.

TOGETHER, they are mismatched, ill-fated, and COMBUSTIBLE. But when their connection is challenged by the collision of past, present, and future, will they be snared by love…or circumstances?  Add to Goodreads

get your copy today. red 99c Amazon USAmazon UK Amazon CAAmazon AU

Snared every single thing

⇨ GIVEAWAY 


Snared Everythingexcerpt blue

I perched on the chair next to him. He started tapping on his legs again, and I moved my hands so they were over his. He immediately stopped. “Show me.” His hands were still for a few beats too long, and I figured he wasn’t going to do it. I was about to move when he put the drumsticks in my hands and began moving, tapping a rapid beat I’d never remember.

I turned my head so I could watch his face as he played my hands with his drumsticks. With my face so close to his, I was able to study the tattoos on his neck, the short dark hair on his beard, his nose ring, and his incredible eyes. They were so dark they looked black, but they were the one part of him that showed expression.

His hands stilled as he realized how close I was to his face. Beau slightly turned my way. My hands were still under his, clutching his drumsticks like they were the last lifeline I had. They just might’ve been. My eyes scanned his flawless face. He had the most beautiful skin, and I wanted to touch him again. My eyes flitted to his lips. God, what it would be like to press my lips to his, I could only imagine.

“Did you…keep your drumsticks?” I felt his warm breath against my lips, and I shuddered. Tingles spread from my spine down to my toes and back again, making goose bumps break out on my skin. I wanted nothing more than to grab him and show him exactly why he should want to get to know me better.

I licked my dry lips and nodded my head. “O-of course. I told you I’d save them forever.”

He nodded. His thumbs caressed my hands and I froze, wondering if he knew what he was doing and afraid if I moved he would realize it and stop.

“You’re so handsome.” My legs shook as adrenaline coursed through my body. “There’s nothing better than seeing you doing what you love.”

Beau’s eyes searched mine as if trying to read into what I said. Of course, he didn’t believe me. Why would he? I knew from experience kids who had been abandoned never quite got over the belief that nothing they did was good enough or would bring back the people they loved. He was no different.

But I had to keep my mouth shut because that’s what had gotten me into trouble before with him.

I wanted nothing more than to kiss Beau, to show him with my mouth what I couldn’t say in words. But I was terrified of what his reaction would be, and after the stress I’d been under over Robbie, I didn’t think my fragile psyche could handle one more thing.

One of Beau’s hands moved, and I knew the moment was over. He’d want me to get away from him now. But instead, I felt his hand touch the side of my face like I’d done to him on the rooftop deck.

“You…” Beau cleared his throat. I could physically see how hard this was for him to do. “April.” It came out a strained whisper, like it physically pained him to say my name. I didn’t want him to hurt because of me.

“It’s okay,” I said, putting my hand over his on my face. “You don’t have to talk. Just know I’m here, all right?”

He shook his head, moving his hand and entwining our fingers together. Then he shocked the hell out of me and kissed my palm, his eyes never leaving mine. “You…smell incredible,” he whispered against my skin. “You’re…beautiful. So beautiful.” If I hadn’t been listening to every syllable like they were the last sounds I’d ever hear, I might’ve missed what he said.

But I’d heard every damn one of them.

Beau stood, his fingers still linked with mine. He leaned over and brushed his lips against my cheek, stopping at my ear. “Stay after the show.” He dropped my hand and stepped around me, but I was frozen in place. Desire pulsed through my body like nothing I’d ever experienced before, and the biggest smile broke across my face.

Beau Anderson had kissed my hand. And my cheek. He’d asked me to stay after the show.

I thought my head just might explode right off my body.

 

divider line

new release header

tyrant it's live

Meet Kilter & Rayne in
Tyrant by Nashoda Rose! #ParaRomance
Amazon US ⋆ Amazon UK ⋆ Amazon CA ⋆ Amazon AU
iBooks ⋆ Nook ⋆ Kobo

A band of fierce warriors walk in the shadows of the human world with capabilities derived from the senses: Trackers, Sounders, Healers, Tasters, Visionaries and the rare Reflectors. They are known as the ‘Scars.

*Stygian must be read first. 18+

x-default

Scars of the Wraiths Series
Stygian (Scars of the Wraiths, Book 1)  Free
Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths, Book 2)
Take (Scars of the Wraiths, standalone)
Credo (Scars of the Wraiths, Book 3) (coming 2016)

Author’s Note: Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths, Book 2) was originally titled “Step” (Senses Series). The book has been completely re-written. However, please check your Kindles before purchasing.

 tyrant excerpt graphic

tyrant rayne
I sat on the cold cement floor of the bathroom, knees to my chest, arms tight around them as I waited for the door to open.
Booted steps strode through my adjoining bedroom toward me.
Closer. Louder.
Goose bumps scattered. My body trembled as raw fear gripped me. It was like I was hanging off the side of a cliff by my fingernails, knowing I’d eventually fall and the pain would come.
Unbearable pain.
He’d come. My husband or whoever he’d sent to get me.
There was no escape. No where to run.
The heavy thuds stopped outside the bathroom door, and I glimpsed the tall, dark shadow that filtered through the two-inch gape.
I put my chin on my knee and closed my eyes, afraid to look. If I didn’t look, then no one was here. My breath came in short, sharp, quiet gasps and I dug my fingers into the sides of my thighs so hard, blood trickled down my skin through my pants.
For almost a month, I’d expected this day to come, stomach churning every time I heard someone in the corridor outside my bedroom. Living in a black hole, I was desperate to get out, but knew the day I did, it was to face punishment for helping the Scars escape the compound.
The door pushed open with what sounded like a kick of a boot.
Tears pooled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I squeezed my eyes shut harder as fear drilled into me like tiny darts piercing my skin.
Another step.
Then another.
Then nothing.
Please don’t let it be Ben. Anyone but Ben.
“Fuck, babe. What the hell?”
My breath hitched at the sound of the familiar, deep voice. A voice I’d never forget. A voice that gave me hope then snatched it away with his lies.
I raised my head and locked eyes on the Scar I’d helped escape.
Well, more like he used me in order to help him and his friend escape.
He was also the man who had haunted my dreams for weeks since then. And they were haunting because he was scary. Not ugly scary, far from it, but intense scary.
He had a chiseled jaw with a few days of scruff and defined cheekbones. His look was old-world, which made sense since the Scars were immortal, but he definitely wasn’t an old-world English gentleman. More like a Highland Scot.
A long, jagged scar dragged from his right brow to his ear and another across his neck, which attributed to the scary factor. But that wasn’t what did it—that gave him character, it gave him a story.
It was his eyes that really intimidated, black and cold without a hint of compassion. And after spending a night in an air duct with him, I knew, compassion was not part of his disposition.
Actually, he’d been an asshole and didn’t try to hide it.
“Get up.”
I didn’t move.
I didn’t know what to do. He’d used me before, so I guessed he was here to use me again, although the reason was unclear because my husband didn’t have any Scars in his compound for this guy to break out.
“Babe, don’t have time for this shit. Get the fuck up.” He didn’t wait for me to get up, but bent, grabbed my forearm, and hauled me to my feet with a rough yank. I landed against him, my palms on his chest.
I quickly shoved back, but his hand remained locked on my forearm, and he didn’t allow me further than arm’s length. Staring, he performed a quick assessment, his dark eyes narrowing and trailing down the front of me.
“You look like shit. Worse, actually.” With the calloused pad of his thumb, he haphazardly wiped the tears from my cheeks.
I had no response. I was confused as to why he was here and how he managed to get into the basement and find me without the alarms blaring.
He cupped my chin. “You hurt?”
Not really, but I was an emotional wreck. Did that count?
“You need to answer me when I ask you a question.”
He was right, I did, and not because he told me to, but because there was a sliver of hope. I always had it. Most of the time, it was buried deep, but when my eyes hit the Scar… it surfaced whether I wanted it to or not.
So, that hope was him, and pissing him off was going to kill it.
“No,” I said. He frowned. “I’m not hurt.” Then I had a moment of bravery that came with the hope. “Ummm, why are you here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Not really. But the answer wasn’t important, because he’d lied to me before, so no matter what he said, it was highly probable it was complete bullshit. And so was my hope.
His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed; yet his hand on my chin was soft and gentle. “Do I need to fuckin’ carry you?”
What was he talking about? “Carry me? Carry me where?”
His lips pursed together as he glared at me with black, unforgiving eyes. “Listen, babe, I don’t feel like becoming some guy’s lab rat, so I need you to pull your shit together, answer my questions, stop asking them, and maybe we’ll get out of here alive.”
Get out of here? The hope plowed back into me, but I was afraid to grab onto it because I didn’t dare believe the Scar had come back to get me out of here. Why would he?
But there was something different in him than three weeks ago. Maybe it was the way he gently wiped my tears away or how he held me right now, his fingers no longer bruising, but holding me steady as if he knew I needed the support.
He was tall, probably six foot two, and I’d noticed when I was against his chest that my head tucked under his chin. I also noticed, beneath his black T-shirt, he was rock-hard with ridges and valleys of muscles.
His hand moved to the back of my neck. It wasn’t exactly gentle, but more like he was attempting to get my attention. He already had it, but I was still confused.
“You want to get out of this pisshole? ‘Cause if you don’t, tell me now so I can leave you here and get the fuck out.”
I tried to lower my head, but his grip on the back of my neck tightened and I was forced to meet his eyes. “I hate him.” Why did I say that? I mean, I did, but he didn’t ask me that.
His brows drew together and his grip on my neck tightened. “Yeah, I got that, babe.”
Logically, I should be terrified of him, yet I wasn’t. It was more nervousness than anything.
There was a hint of something I recognized in his eyes that was oddly comforting. And I recognized it because it was the same look I saw in myself; the haunting tornado of emotions trapped behind a wall.
Our walls were very different, though. His wall was a shield of anger. Mine was a shield of numbness.
He let me go, eyes scanning the bathroom before grabbing my sweatshirt hanging on a hook on the wall. “Arms up.” I did and he pulled it over my head. “It’s cold and you don’t have an ounce of fat on you,” he said while his gaze traveled the length of my body. “Jesus, you look like you’ll break in a gust of wind.” He swore beneath his breath and shook his head. “You good to run?”
My legs felt like uncooked spaghetti ready to crack in half at the slightest push and my heart beat erratically, having to work hard to keep my body functioning. I was falling apart, so probably the truth would be a hell no, but I nodded anyway.
He hesitated then nodded, as if satisfied that, regardless of my lie, he thought I’d be able to at least keep up.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me from the bathroom, through the bedroom, to the door.
He pulled a knife from a leather sheath at his hip and opened the door, peering out before looking back at me. “Keep close. Lag behind and I’m not coming back for you. Understand?”
I nodded.
I didn’t trust him, but I did know he would leave me because he’d done it before.
The fight inside me had died years ago, as had the ability to trust anyone. I had trusted. I had fought. Neither had done me any good. So now I trusted myself, and that meant killing parts of who I was.
It meant protecting me.
Burying me.
“Babe?”
I snapped my eyes to his. For a second, I thought his eyes softened, but it was more wishful thinking on my part. He was probably thinking he’d just made the stupidest mistake of his life by coming back here. Escaping my husband’s compound twice had a high probability of failure.
His fingers curled around my fragile hand, squeezed, then tugged me forward. “Let’s get the fuck out of this shithole.”

 

divider linenew release header
Can Tristan convince Kat that, despite their parents’ upcoming nuptials, that she belongs with him? Find out in SEDUCTION, part 2 of Lauren Smith’s sexy New Adult series, HER BRITISH STEPBROTHER!

Grab both, FORBIDDEN and SEDUCTION in the HER BRITISH STEPBROTHER series for only $.99! What a steal! Make sure to grab your copies today! #bingeread

Part 2 in the Her British Stepbrother series

Tristan is a man who knows what he wants. And he wants Kat in his bed. All he has to do is convince her they belong together . . .

Kat knows the connection she and Tristan share is special. Her British bad boy is too much of everything: too hot, too arrogant, too irresistible to stay away from. He’s her addiction and one night with him isn’t enough.

That’s what hurts the most. They can’t date, can’t be a normal couple, not when their parents are getting married. Because now that she knows he’s going to be her stepbrother, no one can ever find out what they’ve done . . .

get your copy today. red Amazon US ✦ Amazon UK ✦ Amazon CA ✦ Amazon AU

⇨ GIVEAWAY 

divider line

cover reveal header

Risky and Wild by Violet BlazeRISKY AND WILD by VIOLET BLAZE
SERIES: Bad Boys MC Trilogy (Book #2)
GENRE: Motorcycle Club Romance
FIRST BOOK: Raw and Dirty
Add to Goodreads
RELEASES: March 2016

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s